The day before I leave, Stewart comes to the laundry room. He knocks on the back door. I let him in and I kind of lose it for a second, like I can’t quite breathe. I have been thinking about him every second of these last days.
But then he acts weird and standoffish. He stays by the door. He’s being shy. I want him to look at me, to hold me. This is the last time I’m going to see him for five weeks!
“You excited about leaving?” he finally says.
“Not really,” I say, a panic building in my chest.
“Why not?” he says.
“Why do you think!?” I say to him. “God!”
“Are you talking about me?”
“Of course I’m talking about you!” I cry. “I’m not going to see you for a month!” Tears spring to my eyes. “What am I supposed to do on Tuesday night? Who am I supposed to drink hot chocolate with?”
He looks embarrassed.
“What about you?” I ask him. “Are you glad I’m leaving?”
“No. Of course I’m not. But I’m glad for you.”
We both stand there, looking at the floor. One of the washing machines switches to spin cycle. It starts to shake.
“Are you going to stay sober?” he asks in a careful voice.
“Yes. I was planning on it. Are you?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you gonna call me?” I ask him.
“Sure.”
“You better! God!”
“I will,” he says. “Of course I will.”
I can’t stand it anymore. I grab him. A sob bursts out of my chest. Stewart takes me in his arms.
“It’s okay,” he tells me, rocking me.
“I’m afraid,” I whisper. “I’m afraid it won’t be the same after we leave here. Something will happen. Something will change.”
He strokes my hair. “Of course things will change. But it’ll work out.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” I say, clutching him. “I don’t know how to lose someone.”
“You’re not losing anyone,” he says, releasing me. “In fact, I want to give you something.”
He takes his grandmother’s ring off his little finger.
I wipe the tears from my eyes. “You can’t give me that,” I say.
“I’m just lending it to you. I want you to hold it for me.”
“I…I can’t —”
“See if it fits.”
I take the ring. I look at it. I try putting it on my ring finger. It fits perfectly.
“But what if I lose it?”
“Don’t lose it.”
“But I always lose stuff.”
He closes my hand around the ring. “When I get out of here, you can give it back,” he says. “And in the meantime it’ll protect you, like it’s protected me.”
“But I —”
There’s a noise in the next room. Rami’s back from lunch. “I better go,” Stewart says.
I throw my arms around him and squeeze him with all my strength. He hugs me back, for one second, then two. Then stupid Rami starts whistling in the other room. That means he’s about to come in. Stewart pulls away and slips out without a sound. I stand there, staring at the closed door.
Rami comes in. He continues to whistle as he checks the dryers.
I look down at the ring. I turn it on my finger.